


Remembered Tomorrows

by Lefaym



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Canon Disabled Character, M/M, Post-X-Men: Days of Future Past, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2691380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lefaym/pseuds/Lefaym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles gives Erik a glimpse of a future that no longer exists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembered Tomorrows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mabyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabyn/gifts).



> My heartfelt thanks to my wonderful team of betas/hand-holders/cheerleaders: [redacted], [redacted], and [redacted] -- to be revealed after the reveal! But they know who they are -- I couldn't have got this fic ready to post without them.
> 
> And thank you, mabyn, for your amazing prompt, without which this fic wouldn't exist at all!

Charles had not planned on this. 

It should have been simple: Charles would meet with Erik on neutral ground. He would try to convince Erik that the little demonstration of power he had planned for the Human/Mutant Alliance Rally in Times Square next week was not in fact the best way to deter the anti-mutant groups that had sprung up in the six months since his performance in Washington DC. And if Erik refused to change his plans… well, Charles had other ways of stopping him, though he preferred not to use them.

He had been prepared for an argument. He had been prepared to appeal to Erik’s logic, and he knew he wasn’t above throwing a few emotional barbs in there either, though that was a risky strategy. He had been willing to call in reinforcements, if necessary.

Charles had not been prepared, however, for Erik to stop suddenly in the middle of a speech about refusing to hide. He hadn’t been prepared for the glimmer of intention that fell from Erik’s mind a moment later either, which was why Charles didn’t react quickly enough when Erik crossed the hotel room, leaned down over his chair, and kissed him.

He definitely hadn’t been prepared for how achingly familiar it would feel.

It wasn’t just Erik’s mouth on his, though he certainly remembered that well enough. It was the way Erik leaned over him, one hand on Charles’ armrest and the other curved around his neck. It was the way his own hands moved, as if by instinct, to Erik’s shoulders to brace him. And that made no sense, because the last time they’d been together, Charles had had the use of his legs; there had been no need to worry about balance, or the distance created by his chair. But it felt as though they’d done this a thousand times before.

Erik’s mouth was warm and rough, and Charles knew he should put a stop to this, but instead he tightened his grip on Erik’s shoulders, and tried to pull him in closer. Erik made a sound in the back of his throat, and Charles felt a burning in his chest, half sweet and half painful.

“Erik,” Charles managed, “Erik, I--”

“Don’t,” Erik murmured. “Don’t say anything.” Erik’s right hand moved up to cup Charles’ cheek, and suddenly Charles saw himself and Erik as old men, holding each other in a world beginning to fall apart around them. 

_“Don’t,” Erik says, his palm warm against Charles’ skin. “You don’t have to say it, Charles.” Charles knows that Erik is right, because there are no words that can erase the past; it has to be enough that they’ve found each other again. He reaches out to the tangled web of grief and love and regret in Erik’s mind, and tries to show him everything that can’t be put into words. Erik leans in toward him again and--_

Charles felt something wrench inside his mind; cool air rushed in to meet his face as Erik pulled away from him. He opened his eyes and saw Erik on the other side of the room, his expression somewhere between stunned and stricken.

Charles opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. He hadn’t even realized that he was--

“That was us,” said Erik, his voice low.

Charles nodded. He could still feel Erik’s wrenching sorrow, his desire to hold onto Charles for whatever time they had left, his determination to take this second chance. Charles swallowed hard, trying to ignore the ache behind his ribs.

Erik stood still, his eyes locked on Charles’ face. And then, abruptly, he turned away. “I have to go.”

“Erik,” Charles started, when he finally found his voice, but Erik was already halfway to the door.

He was gone before Charles even thought to stop him.

* * *

Two days later Charles felt Erik’s mind in his study.

The ridiculous thing was, he didn’t notice at first. He was in the basements with Hank, drawing up plans for refurbished training rooms. They were discussing one of Hank’s designs for a Sentinel simulation when Charles sensed another mind in the mansion, and suddenly everything that he had very carefully suppressed for the past forty-eight hours returned with a gut-wrenching force.

“Is everything alright?” Hank asked.

Charles’ mouth was dry. His right hand had clenched itself into a fist, and it was suddenly far too easy to remember the heat of Erik’s mouth, the brush of Erik’s hands on his skin. “Yes, I -- I’m fine.”

Hank’s raised his eyebrows. “You don’t look fine.”

“I just -- it’s just a bit of a headache coming, on, I’m afraid.” Charles’ stomach twisted at the lie, but he rubbed at his temples anyway, as though trying to relieve the tension. The gesture brought Erik’s mind into sharper focus -- he could feel its calm, steely surface, and the turmoil beneath that. And he could feel Hank, too, accepting Charles’ deception.

“You’re spending too much time in Cerebro,” Hank said. “You should take a break from it.”

Charles nodded. “You’re probably right.” That, at least, was the truth. “I should have a lie down.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No, no, I’m sure I can handle myself. You keep going with this.” He tapped his temple. “I’ll call out if I need anything.” 

Charles turned his chair around and left before Hank had time to ask any more questions.

He tried to keep himself calm as he took the elevator from the basement to the first floor. Erik’s presence wasn’t entirely unexpected: Cerebro had allowed him to keep tabs on Erik since he’d abandoned their meeting, and Charles known that Erik had remained close to New York, that he had not yet abandoned his plans for the rally, now only five days away. But Charles had held back whenever he found himself edging toward Erik’s more personal thoughts about… what had happened.

If he didn’t look too deeply, Charles found that he could keep going, keep himself focused on his promise to Logan, even as the back of his mind made plans for a confrontation, and something else inside him screamed out to find Erik, to save him, to show him that he wasn’t lost. Charles had made his plans and developed his strategies, but he had refused to dwell on them, just as he refused to dwell on the gnawing in his gut when he worried about Raven, or the two vials of Hank’s serum still hidden in his bottom drawer. 

Now though, with Erik’s mind so close, unmediated by the distance of Cerebro, Charles lacked the willpower to hold back. He could see how the image of their older selves cut through Erik’s thoughts, through his plans for the rally, through the mess of frustration and affection that always seemed to be linked to Charles, somehow. He could hear the questions that burned their way through Erik’s consciousness, _How_ , and _What_ , and _Will we…_ And it was harder now too, for Charles to ignore the way hot anger coursed through his veins when he thought of Erik walking out, and the furious hope he’d felt that maybe, just maybe...

As Charles approached his study, he felt Erik sense his chair, and the door opened in front of him. Erik was sitting in one of the armchairs by the coffee table near the window. When Charles was inside the room, Erik gestured and the door closed.

For a long moment they looked at each other without speaking.

“Why are you here, Erik?” Charles asked at last.

“I think you already know.” Erik’s voice was quiet and steady, but the surface of his mind rippled.

“Humor me,” said Charles.

“What was that, the other day?” A wave of frustration and desire surged through Erik as he spoke, and Charles almost flinched with the force of it.

“It -- ” Charles sighed. “It wasn’t...”

“Whatever it was, it felt real.”

Charles closed his eyes for a moment. “It was real once, but now...” When Erik didn’t say anything, Charles continued. “When Logan was here -- Logan from the future -- I was able to use his mind to contact… myself. In the timeline that no longer exists.”

Erik sat up straighter, and something bright flashed across his mind. “That was what you saw?”

Charles shook his head. “Not at the time.”

“What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t like touching another mind, Erik. This was my own mind meeting itself. Some of his memories, some of _my_ memories slipped through, settled into my brain without either of us realizing it.” Charles ran his tongue across his top lip. “The memories… I see them, occasionally. When you -- when we -- it triggered one of them, and I projected it.”

“You lost control of your power so easily?”

Charles shook his head. “My other self was reaching out to you. My mind simply did the same thing.”

“Do you have more memories like that one?”

Charles felt his breath catch. “Fragments, sometimes.”

“Show me,” Erik said.

“Erik--”

“I want to see.”

Charles opened his mouth to protest, but Erik stood and crossed the room in three long strides.

“Show me,” Erik repeated.

Charles swallowed. “I -- it’ll be easier if we have some contact.”

Erik nodded. He waved his hand, and the chair he’d been using floated across the room; when he sat, their knees were almost touching. Erik leaned in toward him, and Charles raised his fingertips to Erik’s head and closed his eyes.

Erik’s mind hovered in front of him, almost painfully bright. Charles wanted to run, he wanted to reach out and take everything from Erik, he wanted to -- Charles forced himself to breathe. He focused on the link between them, he drew Erik in, and then reached backwards, into his own mind. 

It was harder this way, trying to find the memories of his other self deliberately. Charles kept finding himself drawn into his own impressions of the past, the memories that he’d pushed into hidden corners and only accessed when too much alcohol had impaired his judgment. He pressed through them, through all the intoxicating hope they’d shared for those few months all those years ago, through the memory of Erik looking at him such intensity when they fucked, of Erik holding him and then leaving him broken, Erik and Raven both, leaving him.

Erik made a noise, barely more than a sigh, and Charles felt something tear inside of him, but it wasn’t himself tearing, it was Erik. Charles pushed further, past the older memories and into more recent ones, to Paris, to the early hours before the before the peace summit, when they’d found each other in the morning twilight, but this time, Charles could feel Erik’s anguish, his panic that Charles would control him, that Charles would stop him from saving them all, he could feel that hidden panic growing, and Erik’s indecision, as they made their way into the Hotel Royal, toward Raven.

It was too much, it was too much; Charles was nearly lost inside himself, he couldn’t find what he needed, the memories of his other self were gone, they were missing, and--

Charles felt a warm pressure against the back of his right hand. He felt fingers curl into his palm, and when he opened his eyes, everything shifted.

_Erik takes his hand and there is no need to read his thoughts, because for once, they are plain on his face. “I knew you were too stubborn to die,” he says, his voice shaking, before he falls to his knees and buries his face in Charles’ lap… They look out together over the ruins of the school. There are no words to be spoken, not now, but Erik grips Charles’ shoulder and lets him weep… They are leading those who survive; Erik stands behind Charles, and when he gestures, Charles’ chair moves forward… They are hiding together in the dark, sharing a room in an abandoned farmhouse, and they make love awkwardly and desperately because they don’t know when or if they’ll have the chance again._

Charles pulled his hands away from Erik’s temples and used them to cover his own face. He took three long, shaking breaths and wiped the wetness from his cheeks before he allowed himself to look at Erik.

Their eyes met, and Erik swallowed, blinking furiously. Charles reached out and let his hand fall onto Erik’s knee. A sob escaped from Erik’s throat, and then another, before he managed to pull himself in, and Charles felt the effort that it cost him.

“That -- that was really us?” Erik asked.

“In the other timeline, the one Raven ended… yes, that was us.”

“And what about now? This timeline.”

“I don’t know,” Charles said. He had told Hank that they would all be together, but he wasn’t naive enough to think that everything would change in a heartbeat. Erik was still the man who had shot Raven, who had caused so much terror in DC. It had taken the end of the world to bring them together, in their other lives. Perhaps if the end of the world didn’t happen... “I simply don’t know, my friend.”

Charles looked away then. He thought about the training rooms that Hank was designing for the basements, about the lesson plans on tactics and strategy, and wondered if perhaps he was already on a path far closer to Erik’s than he would like to admit. He thought about the sliver of doubt he could feel in Erik’s mind when he thought about the rally in Times Square, and he wondered if it would be enough to overcome Erik’s conviction that any person could be sacrificed, if it was done to protect their people.

“I want…” said Erik. “I hope…” He didn’t finish, but Charles could see the image of both of them together in his mind.

“Me too,” said Charles. He turned his eyes back to Erik, and it felt like ripping a sticking plaster from a wound.

Erik’s hand came up to Charles’ cheek, and Charles let himself lean into it. A lock of his hair fell forward, and Erik brushed it aside with a finger.

“You go bald,” Erik said.

Charles smiled. “Shut up.”

“I liked it. You looked…dignified.”

“Well… that’s something at least.”

And finally, Erik smiled back at him.

Charles leaned in further without even thinking about it, and Erik did the same. Charles tilted his head and--

Something brushed across his mind. "Damn."

Erik blinked and pulled back. "What?"

"Hank. He's going to come upstairs in a minute. I, er, might have told him that I was lying down with a headache."

"Can't you just..." Erik wiggled his fingers beside his head.

"I could," Charles said. "But I won't. Not without good reason."

Erik frowned, a spike of disappointing piercing his thoughts. "You've changed."

Charles remembered a night, here in the mansion, when he'd sent every other person away, convinced them all that they didn't want to go near his room, until he and Erik were done. "I suppose I have. But--"

"But?"

"You should come back later," Charles said. “Tonight. We should at least finish… we have things to talk about."

Erik looked at him, his lips parted. Charles could hear the thoughts forming in his mind, _To hell with Hank, let him find us here, I don’t care what he thinks_ , but he could also feel Erik holding back; he could feel a fierce warmth building in Erik’s chest at the thought of spending the night, of the two of them locked away from the world and everything in it. 

"All right," said Erik at last. “Tonight.”

Charles released the air in his lungs. “Nine o’clock,” he said. “My room.” Hank wouldn’t ask questions if he turned in early.

“Nine,” Erik agreed. 

Charles pushed himself backwards and turned around. For just a moment, barely more than a second, Charles felt himself propelled forward, toward the opening doors of the study. And over the top of that, he sensed Erik remembering his older self, and the way Charles had trusted him to--

Before it became too much, Charles forced himself to shut out Erik’s mind. If things continued like this, Charles would turn himself back; he might even end up agreeing with Erik that Hank could could bloody well find them here, half undressed and groping each other like teenagers. He couldn’t let that happen.

Instead, he pressed onwards, hope and anticipation warring with a voice telling him that he was being a complete idiot, that he would regret this, that in all likelihood he and Erik would face each other as adversaries five days from now, and countless times again after that. But… they could have this night, Charles told himself. They could have it because in the future that no longer existed, they had found a way. Because there had to be more than just fighting each other. Because he _wanted_ it, damn it, and Erik wanted it too.

And for all that Charles knew that this could go horribly wrong, he couldn’t avoid the thought that maybe it would go just a little bit right instead.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Last Chance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2763317) by [Lefaym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lefaym/pseuds/Lefaym)




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